


Vale's Irregulars

by TheReal_McChicken



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Multi, Original Character(s), Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReal_McChicken/pseuds/TheReal_McChicken
Summary: The Battle of Haven leaves Corporal Erric Vale as the sole survivor of his mercenary company contracted to the Inquisition. With the help of Commander Cullen he must piece together a new fighting force made from a diverse group of misfits with exceptional skills.





	Vale's Irregulars

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I obviously don't own, nor did I make, Dragon Age and all rights are reserved by the companies that do. 
> 
> If you're looking for a romance story or DA smut you won't find it here, at least not yet. There will be a few romances in the far far future if writing this story goes the way I plan it to. It's going to be a relatively slow story with a lot of short chapters, at least in the beginning while I write a short prologue for each of the protagonists.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and enjoy! :)

**Prologue I: To the Fade You Shall Return**

Although it was only Harvestmere, the blistering cold chilled Erric Vale to his bones. He wished he’d never come to this part of Ferelden at this time of year, but duty had called. He thought it might have still been warm around this time back home in Denerim. He wasn’t certain going back to Denerim was even possible.

As the beaten and distraught soldiers of the Inquisition trekked through the deep powdery snow, he pondered whether to look back. If he did, what would he see? Would he look back in anger or sorrow?

When he did finally look over his shoulder, barely stopping the brisk pace he was making, he saw nothing. Haven had been buried under a mountain’s worth of snow. There were no torches in the distance, no venatori in pursuit. No archdemon that brought back haunting memories of the Battle of Denerim. What was there, somewhere deep beneath the snow, were his friends. The mercenary band that had put their faith in him, that had called themselves ‘Vale’s Irregulars’ since the end of the Fifth Blight. Gar… Meena… Reggie. His closest confidantes that had been alive, well, and cracking jokes only an hour before. Vale shed a tear that almost instantly froze to his cheek.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
By the time the Inquisition finally made its camp to rest they had lost more good men and women to the cold and the storm. It wasn’t long before the sisters began to recite the Chant.

“Then the Maker said:  
To you, My second-born, I grant this gift:  
In your heart shall burn  
An unquenchable flame  
All-consuming, and never satisfied.  
From the Fade I crafted you,  
And to the Fade you shall return  
Each night in dreams  
That you may always remember Me."

Threnodies. He let out a sad chuckle, as if breaking the tension, but there was no one else around him. The Canticle of Threnodies had always been a favourite of every young Andrastian. It was meant to reassure them of the strength given to them by the Maker, but so many of them had just witnessed the deaths of their friends, families, and the Herald of Andraste herself. Just by looking around the camp he could tell he wasn’t the only one not in the mood. He wondered if the other survivors felt as guilty as he did.

He wondered if there was something he could’ve done differently. He knew he couldn’t blame himself or Commander Cullen. They both knew the risks the Irregulars were taking by going out into the fighting. They both knew it was just their jobs. One job to command, one job to follow. But for ten years his friends had taken jobs worse than working for the Inquisition. A few of them, including Vale himself, had survived Ostagar.

He thought about it hard as he prepared his bedroll and eventually drifted off to sleep. He supposed that he never really forgave himself for Ostagar either.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He awoke late into the night to the sound of cheering. He leapt from a horrible nightmare to a living miracle. As he sat up from his bedroll he could vaguely make out a party entering the other side of the camp. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and pulled himself out of the furs and into the freezing air. He shivered in a cold sweat that resulted from his slumber in full gear. He stumbled to the amassing group surrounding the approaching party.

A mere few hours ago nobody could have thought the Herald of Andraste would be alive. A small Elven girl facing off against an archdemon and an army of Tevinter was usually a death sentence. Vale was certain those who hadn’t believed the claims to her divinity were firm believers now.

The once solemn and quiet camp erupted into discussion, cheer, and revelry when the Herald arrived. Nobody would be going back to sleep now. Vale moved from the dispersing crowd and towards one of the many fires that sustained the lifeforce of the Inquisition in these dark times. The Chantry sisters were serving tea. It appeared to Vale that a few good things had come out of the darkness tonight...


End file.
